september journal

A reflection on September - on burnout, anxiety about going home, and writing…

September was a wild ride. As I write this post, I'm also fighting a headache that has persisted all week. It's crazy how stress hormones can physically torture you.

Work has consumed all of my mental capacity lately. I thought about the double identities that I'm constantly switching between - the professional contractor who shows up to work every weekday and navigates the corporate politics and problems; and the blogger/ photographer who wants to live a creatively beautiful life free of drama. I admit I am greedy. I keep imagining myself like Hermione who wants to show up and be her best in multiple places at once. Unfortunately, I don't have the Time-Turner as she did. So I'm burning myself out trying to strive for the impossible.

Thank goodness for a three-week holiday coming up in a week.

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As much as I'm looking forward to going back to Vietnam after almost five years apart from my family, I can't help but feel anxious too.

When I tell people I'm going home for three weeks, most are very happy for me. One of the things I heard a lot is that I'm so lucky I don't have to worry about accommodation or expenses as I'll be staying with my parents. A part of me was too ashamed to share that actually my parents are renting and I'll be staying in a hotel.

My parents sold the home I grew up in years ago. One of the big reasons for their decision to sell the house was to fund my study in New Zealand. Looking back now I realise it was heavy baggage for an 18-year-old girl to carry with her into adulthood. I feel like I took away my family's sense of home and security.

I never say it out loud but every time I travelled back to Vietnam, my heart broke a little. Not only did I lose a sense of home because I stayed at a different place each time, but I also feel embarrassed about our circumstances. I still remember a casual joke my friend said to me, every time he picked me up, I'd be at a different place. Sometimes even a passing remark cuts deep.

I don't have the luxury of a safe haven anymore. Somewhere I could crawl back and be my parents' baby. I'm someone for them to rely on now. Though, at the same time, I also realise that I have become capable of taking care of my family. I should be proud of how far I have come, instead of feeling insecure about my humble background.

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It was a running joke in my family about how they always found me with a pen and paper scribbling away ever since I was a kid. I fell in love with the notion of putting pen to paper and let my imagination run wild. I would make up words and characters and documents.

I was about 8 when my mum was diagnosed with cancer. She gave me a diary and encouraged me to start journaling. She must have known I needed a way to deal with all the turbulence and difficult emotions that would come in the next three years while our family fought the cancer. I journal almost every day since - what happened, how I felt, what's going on in my head.

Writing becomes my way of processing my thoughts and who I am, and better yet, discovering who I want to be. Twenty years of journalling has not only defined my identity, it has directed my life.

Yet ever since I started this blog, there have been many moments where I couldn't find the courage to sit down, write, and share. Every day when I’m in the shower and reflecting on the day, I remember so many stories that I want to tell. Stories about my childhood. Memories and events that changed me. I want to write them down and tell them all. But the fear of people judging me, my writing and my stories holds me back. All the mistakes and imperfections in my writing make me not want to even start.

As I'm entering my birth month and about to celebrate another year around the sun, I want to get out of my head and follow my heart, continue making time for writing and have the courage to share it. Because I know I'm ever growing and there's no shame in making mistakes as long as I can learn from them.

So if you’ve been looking for a sign to do something that scared you like putting what you create out there, this is it.

Be courageous my friends x

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